The Writer - Chapter 20

The Reader

This Reading was … different to say the least. For one, the scenes didn’t really make sense. It was like when she had Read Beckett - everything was broken and scattered. 

Also, Emmeline could see Newt. And not past or future Newt, the real one. 

He looked disoriented at first, thought a lot healthier than he looked in real life. Emmeline tried to make her way towards him, discovering that she hovered about the ground like a smoky ghost. 

“Newt?” she whispered. 

He turned towards her, eyes wide. “Emmeline? How are you inside my head?” 

“Inside your head?” Emmeline was aghast. The answer was beyond her. This was just a Reading, wasn’t it? 

Newt nodded. “I’ve been trapped in here for a while now. An hour, maybe? Two?” 

Emmeline sucked in a breath. So this was the real, live Newt - just mentally. She briefly wondered if Dixral knew this would happen, but she pushed the thought aside. 

“Newt, it’s been a few days.” 

He became pale. Emmeline hadn’t realized exactly how much she missed his snarky attitude and sarcastic comments until he refused to have them. The world felt quiet without his personality. 

Emmeline took a moment to explain what all had happened since she had passed out in the woods. Newt didn’t remember anything besides wandering around his own head alone. She told him about her and Beckett’s useless trip to Luca’s house. He was practically shaking with rage when Emmeline narrated how easily the Rogues had captured her. She kept her new magic a secret, she didn’t want to make Newt feel worse about himself. 

“You must be exhausted,” he said when she finished. 

Emmeline shrugged. Sure, she was tired. But her friends needed her and she would sleep as soon as she was done helping Newt. 

“Seriously, lay down and rest for a bit, if you’re trapped here like I am.” 

Emmeline shook her head. “Dixral said I had to Read you, that’s why I’m here. She said it might fix you-” 

“Dixral?” The name was practically spat. 

Emmeline frowned. “Newt-” 

“I hate this,” he grumbled. “I hate being stuck in here when I could be helping everyone else.” 

Emmeline knew he was talking about being imprisoned in his own mind, but a small part of her realized he could also be referencing being stuck in the mansion with her. Once again, guilt pulled at her. The only reason Newt was sick was because of her petty attempt to run away. 

“I can try actually Reading you,” Emmeline suggested quietly. “I don’t know what went wrong last time, but I can try.” 

Newt shrugged, but Emmeline could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he was hesitant. “I promise I’ll try to forget what I see,” she whispered, trying and failing to sound reassuring. 

“I’m not worried about what you end up seeing,” Newt admitted. “Do your - do your clients, I dunno, see what you see too?” 

“I don’t think so,” Emmeline replied. She hadn’t put much thought into that, but she was pretty sure that whoever she Read had no idea. Why else would she be required to write everything down? 

Newt nodded, looking slightly more confident. “Promise me that whatever you see, you won’t try to change it. Promise me that you won’t change how you look at me because of it either. I don’t want your pity.” 

Emmeline nodded, but her lips couldn’t form the promise. What if she saw how Newt died? What if it was something that she could prevent? 

“So, do your thing, I guess,” Newt sighed, attempting a weak joke. Emmeline gave him a small smile, but before she could close her eyes, she felt Newt’s cool fingers on her wrist. She looked up at him. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too. That’s why I have to do this.” 

And with that, Emmeline squeezed her eyes shut tight and let Newt’s past and future roll over her like waves in an ocean. 

The bright colors of a circus tent. The loud voices echoing in the background, arguing. A small Newt is being held by a woman who shares a striking resemblance with him, pressing his face into her chest as her voice rises higher and higher with every word. The other voice is yelling too, louder, deep and masculine. Newt turns and sees a man with a fancy looking suit glaring at him. “Any other person you could’ve run off with - which still makes me angry - but him?” Newt’s mother blushes. “You don’t understand, Zoro. I had to. You keep me locked up here like a prisoner, and he promised me better.” “Then why don’t you run back to the land of the dead? You don’t have to be here, Willow and I can manage.” “I beg to differ.” “I didn’t ask, Nell. I told you. Leave - you aren’t welcome here.” The woman begins to sob. “We can’t go back. With a child, it’s too risky. If I go back, I will have to leave Newt-” “Does he have any magic?” The woman shrugs, and Newt can sense the lie in her voice. “Not yet, but Dixral promised he would be special.” Zoro nods. “I will watch the boy. It’s the least I can do, as you…” 

The scene shifted, leaving Emmeline with barely a moment to grasp her thoughts. Willow was Newt’s … half sister? It seemed that Newt’s mother - Nell - had run off with another man, but Nell was also Zoro’s wife. 

Newt is about six, standing in front of the circus tent, the same woman standing beside him. “Mom, I want to go with you,” he pleads. “Zoro hates me and I’m not welcome, I’m just dead weight.” The woman sighs. “You still haven’t shown them?” Newt shakes his head. The woman smiles. “Good. They can never know, or they will use you. And Zoro, well, I’ll talk to him later. He’ll understand.” Newt nods, not reassured. A small, dark haired girl pops out from the side of the tent. “Newt! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Newt smiles softly. “I’ll be in a minute.” The girl disappears and his mother suppresses a smile. “Who was that?” “That’s Echo, she’s our Reader - we only got her about a year ago.” The smile morphs into a frown and Newt’s mother bends down to talk to him. “I don’t want to hear you talk that way again.” Newt is confused, so his mother clarifies. “You said you only ‘got’ her, like she’s property.” Newt began to protest, but his mother pressed a finger to his lips. “Readers are just like the rest of us. Try to make friends with her - you’ll be the only one to attempt-” 

The scene cut off again, leaving Emmeline feeling guilty. Had their entire friendship been started because his mother had told him to talk to her? Before she could put more thought into it, the darkness plunged into another scene. 

Newt is older now, maybe twelve. He looks scared, but he is trying not to show it. No one else is around. He’s in the middle of a forest somewhere, the circus caravan in the distance. He looks worried, his lip quavering. He reaches out a cautious hand like he’s petting the air. In his shaking hands is a letter, the parchment wrinkled. The words are barely readable, but they contain the thoughts of his mother. She wants him to return to Dinrali to meet her and his father. Newt shivers at the thought. As much as he would love to meet his family, he can’t leave now. Echo - no, not Echo, Emmeline - would be left all alone. He doesn’t want to leave her with people like Titus and Zoro. A small tingle begins to build in his fingertips. Newt tries to suppress the feeling, but it only grows. Finally, he gives a small flick and a tiny burst of light flashes from his fingers. The light takes the form of a ghostly phantom of a boy. The boy always appears when Newt is stressed, so he doesn’t worry. The boy never speaks, he simply watches. They’re the same age, Newt is sure of it. The boy must be his guardian angel. The boy doesn’t disappear this time. Newt finally builds up the courage to ask, “What is your name?” The boy answers- 

Emmeline was frustrated by now. It felt like the Reading was working against her. She spun into another scene. 

Newt is maybe fifteen or sixteen. There’s blood dripping down his forehead, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His limbs are numb and he can’t feel anything, like a bitter cool has seeped into his veins. It’s holding him still. There’s a rush of voices and colors around him that he can’t interpret. And then a rush of warmth floods him. Newt latches onto it, holding tight and letting the sensation pull him upwards. He sits up, gasping for breath. The walls around him are stone, painted with vivid colors. Perhaps he is in a temple. The floor around him is filled with about an inch of frigid water. He looks around, trying to get his bearings. He sees the dark haired girl, her green eyes filled with both relief and panic as she looks at him, lips curling into a smile. She yells something unintelligible. And Newt’s power explodes his fingertips in bursts of fragmented light, attacking- 

This time, Emmeline was given less than a second between scenes. 

I’m dying, Newt realizes. All he feels is cold, the warmth seeping out of him through his chest. He feels the life slowly leaving him. He’s not worried, and it doesn’t hurt. He’s just scared. What will his friends do? They already lost so many, their names already blurring in his head. He wants to sleep, to just end this. The fear is taking over him, encouraging him to fight back. What’s the use? He wants to ask someone, but his lips are still. Someone is kneeling over him. There’s a strange connection, as if the person’s mind is touching his. Scared, he wants to whisper. But he’s broken. Newt takes a last breath before- 

This time, the scene deposited Emmeline in Newt’s mind for only a second. She wanted to talk to him, to ask him about what she had seen. 

But all she heard was “See you soon” in a melancholy tone before she stumbled back into the real world. 

Everything was a rush of colors and Emmeline realized that Beckett had caught her before she had hit her head on the floor. She rubbed her temples, Beckett’s worried voice already ringing in her ears. 

“I’m fine,” she protested, aware of Beckett and Dixral both watching her. 

“What happened?” Beckett asked her, his eyes wide. “One minute you were standing there, and the next you were mumbling stuff and then your knees buckled. Mistress Dead over here was no help.” 

Emmeline didn’t have the energy to tell Beckett not to talk about a goddess that way. 

“I’m sorry,” Emmeline mumbled. “I talked to Newt for a bit before the Reading took place.” She didn’t want to say much more out of fear for Newt’s privacy. 

“And?” Beckett asked, expecting more. 

Emmeline gave a shrug, still trying to make sense of what she had seen. She took a moment to think before answering. “Did he show any signs of … anything?” 

“Take a look for yourself,” Dixral suggested. 

Emmeline got to her feet, sending a small look in Newt’s direction. He was still asleep, but he was slightly less pale. The markings on his arms looked a bit brighter than before, but they were still scarlike. 

“He’s not going to wake up, not yet,” Emmeline realized. She spun to face Dixral. “There’s a … a ruin or something somewhere that he has to go to. There’s a spell there that’ll heal him.” 

Dixral just stared back at Emmeline. 

It was Beckett who gave a breathy answer. “The Temple of Purity - where my mother left me a century ago.” He turned to look at Emmeline, looking scared once again. “There’s the supposed legend about the fountain of youth, it can heal anything. Elyviella hated it - that’s why it was well hidden. But if we can get Newt there…” 

“It’ll reverse whatever Baelle has done to him,” Emmeline finished morosely. “I guess we have another journey ahead of us.” 

“A few more things first,” Dixral interrupted. She stood to her full height, seemingly growing to more than any woman should be, brushing invisible specks off of her dark shirts and blouse. “For one thing, I must get something off my chest.” 

Beckett snorted, Dxiral glaring at him.
“Anyway,” she continued, “Newt is one of my many … charges. The secret has been spilled to Emmeline now, even if she’s too oblivious to notice. Newt is Blessed.” 

Emmeline nodded absentmindedly. Something had been bothering her ever since their meeting with Kalaia. A healer and a Blessed, the Rogue had said. Meaning Clara wasn’t the only Blessed among the group. So Newt had to be Blessed. 

“Also, I have a message for both of you,” Dixral said. She bent down so that she was at eye level with Emmeline and Beckett. “I have spared both of you from death. Beckett has lived much longer than he should, and I brought Emmeline back during her fight with Baelle. So, I can’t guarantee that any of your friends will make it out alive. In fact, because of the path you’ve taken, many more will die. Much will be lost.” 

Dixral crossed her arms, as if expecting retaliation. The words will still worming their way into Emmeline’s brain when Beckett spoke. 

“That’s not fair. Emmeline and I have to survive to beat Baelle.” 

Dixral shrugged. “Death isn’t fair. Death takes the old and the young, the weak and the bold. There’s no escaping. Death claims all.” 

And let’s hope that none of us are to be claimed soon, Emmeline thought to herself bitterly, thinking of the last scene she had seen of Newt’s Reading. She pushed the thought away to think about later. 

Dixral turned, about to leave, when Emmeline stopped her. 

“Yes, child?” Emmeline winced at the word child. 

She inhaled deeply before speaking. “You said that our friends will die during this, and you can’t stop that. But … but when they do, will you take care of them for me?” 

Dixral gave a smile that looked almost sad. “I will personally guide them into the land beyond.” For a moment, the goddess seemed almost human. Maybe being the goddess of death was a terrible burden as well as a privilege. “Now, go get some rest. Take care of my Blessed for me.” She waved her hand and was gone. 

And the world went dark. 

“Miss, I can’t believe you slept in here!” the nurse protested for the fifth time in the last minute. 

Emmeline rolled her eyes. “For the last time, Beckett was here the whole time. We didn’t do anything, just visited.” But the nurse wasn’t buying it, and she obviously wasn’t happy that Newt had “changed” in condition. 

In Emmeline’s defense, the goddess of death had pretty much just put her to sleep for several hours, otherwise she probably would’ve slept in her own room. 

Beckett was there too, but he was oddly quiet for once. He seemed tired, possibly still scared from the magic ordeal from the previous few days. He did verify Emmeline’s claims that she slept on the floor, but the nurse wasn’t impressed. 

After a fair amount of bribery, Emmeline finally got the woman to believe her. The nurse then proceeded to check on Newt, who she claimed was closer to waking up. 

“He’s on the brink of consciousness,” she explained. “Just barely at the line, waiting for something to push him over the edge.” She frowned, giving Emmeline an accusatory look, which Emmeline ignored. 

The hard part now would be convincing the generals to let her and Beckett leave. 

Just as she expected, they told her no. 

“Come on, really,” she sighed. “Newt is dying and you’re just going to let him?”

The Generals shared a look. Ice was the one who finally spoke, though it didn’t sound like he had listened to Emmeline at all. “I understand your concern, but we need to think for the good of you and the-” 

“Listen, I’ve already told you I’ve snuck out twice and not died,” Emmeline continued over top of him. Beside her, Beckett glared at the Generals. “How hard will it be to take Newt a few miles North and heal him?” 

“And we’ve already told you,” Sparks snarled, standing up. “You should never have snuck out, and doing it again will most likely result in your death.” 

“Sending our only hopes with an unconscious boy to a dangerous place sounds stupid - just listen to yourself,” Rock explained in a slightly more kind tone. “Please, Miss, you have to understand that the risk isn’t worth it.”

“Seriously?” Emmeline scoffed, her dislike for the Generals only growing. “Y’know, you always say we’ll attack when we’re ready, but all we do is stall. We’re just wasting time and letting Baelle gather more strength. At this point, we’d have more luck just running up to her and knocking on the door!” 

Emmeline knew that yelling wouldn’t help, but she was tired of doing nothing. She was tired of the Generals ignoring her. Safety wouldn’t matter if there was no world left. 

Sparks was practically on the verge of murder by now. He radiated anger and Emmeline shrunk back, wondering if perhaps she had made a mistake. He picked up a glass that was sitting on the table, throwing it at the wall behind Emmeline. It shattered loudly and neither Rock nor Ice made a move to calm him. 

He was breathing heavily. “You will not leave this mansion, understood?” 

Emmeline stared at him. So angry, so terrible. How could she and her friends have ever trusted them? These men were cowards. 

“Tomorrow,” Emmeline whispered. “Tomorrow Beckett, Newt and I leave for the Temple of Purity. Tomorrow, you leave the mansion and you don’t return. And tomorrow, we finally start fighting back.” 

With that, she turned on her heels and left for what would be the next big adventure.